I’ve had a bit of a cull of my Facebook account. Nothing drastic because nothing drastic was needed. I am well aware that Facebook is not the real world. It’s a place where, within reason, you can say what you like, where you can be who you like. And generally it’s quite harmless. But one day last week when I had too much time on my hands I casually sifted through my list of Facebook ‘friends’ and realised that some friends weren’t friends at all. Some ‘friends’ I had never even met. Friends of friends, people from travel and football forums and generally speaking, total strangers. What on Earth was the point of that?
For years, I had been sharing my life in cyberspace with strangers. When my Facebook memories come up nearly every day, I cringe. Sharing photos on Facebook in such vast numbers was the equivalent of taking a photo album to the pub, joining drinkers at their tables, people you don’t even know, and showing them your family photos or holiday snaps. And once I had that image in my mind, things had to change.
I was also concerned that I seemed to be showing off. I wasn’t, at least not consciously, but I wondered if I was sending out a signal that said “look how great my life is” at the same time knowing real friends weren’t doing quite so well, whether for example for economic reasons or ill health; sometimes both. With the country sliding inevitably into an economic crisis which I fear will overwhelm some families whilst certainly affecting many others in a negative way, I felt something had to give. I know I tend to overthink matters, but if there was the possibility that someone I liked or even loved felt I was boasting, I wouldn’t risk it. I still share some photos, but well in single figures. I wonder if some folk spend most of their time taking photos of what’s happening in their lives instead of enjoying what’s happening in their lives? Pretty sure I did that at one time.
And no matter my mood, I had to smile for the camera on those rare occasions I posted a photo of myself, even if I was in the middle of a depressive episode. I saw that as wholly dishonest, basically a lie. But I hate looking at myself, in the mirror and in photographs, and I now realise I always did. Self-loathing isn’t a good thing and I wish I didn’t feel it, but self-loving isn’t a great look either and that’s why you can count the number of selfies I have taken over the years on the fingers of one hand. Good for anyone who likes taking photos of themselves. They obviously like the way they look far more than I do about myself!
Of course, not everyone uses social media to announce ‘look at me, I’m wonderful’ but I’ve got this thing in my head now and I can’t get it out. Anyway, this is me, not you. This is how I feel, not how you should feel. I’m sticking to people I know on social media and you don’t have to. Either way, it’s okay.
